Survival
by Darkhoelme
Summary: When an unknown virus has left the world overrun by the restless undead, when there's no safety anywhere and friends and mentors alike have fallen in the conflict, is love enough to keep hope alive? ...cue sappily dramatic theme music. No, really...Kurt,
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We don't own the X-Men, but if we did they'd be doing a lot more interesting stuff.

This is set in an AU of the RPG Evolution Unbound and involves a world that has been over-run by zombies as the result of an unknown plague. It's written in role-playing format and alternates between Kurt and Rogue's POVs. Rogue's POV was written by Quing and Kurt's by taekwondodo. **Boldface** indicates a quote being used from the previous character, _italics_ indicate thought and this indicates dialogue in German.

**Rogue**  
—  
Zombies. There were motherfucking zombies all over the goddamn place, they'd been there for some time. At first, she'd been reluctant to accept that. Because really. _Zombies._ Zombies didn't exist. They weren't real, they were made up to scare little kids and sell movies. Or so she'd thought. Now she knew better.

Grabbing a parking meter, she swung it at the head of an approaching zombie, leaning over the body as it hit the wall a few feet away with a satisfying thud, what was left of its head crumpling and sliding to the ground in a gooey mess.

"You'd better fucking stay dead this time, or so help me God I will..." Shit, death threats didn't really work on the undead. And swearing anything to God packed even less of a punch than normal. Earth was Godless. Kicking the sad sack of flesh in the ribs, she turned back to Kurt, who was working on burying the bodies that they'd been too late to save.

It had been a regular patrol; they'd been doing them for a while, trying to find any actual living, breathing people that were still around. Saw a group of zombies attacking some kids, and flown down to help. Unfortunately, the zombies had already killed the kids, leaving the two young mutants to clean up the mess. In the process of destroying the zombies and preparing the burial site for the kids, they'd made a much larger mess out of the area, but at least nobody was standing back up and trying to eat them. And although the kids were all infected, would probably turn, they _had_ to try and honor the fact that they had been people mere moments before. So after making sure that their brains were completely destroyed, a task that had been completely repulsive at first but quickly became just another part of the routine, they'd started to dig.

She'd been digging right alongside him until another few undead goons decided to shamble toward them, intent on having a little snack. There had only been a few of them, though, and killing them was easy enough. Taking to the air to make sure that there weren't any other undead folks making their way toward the burial site, she shouted down to Kurt, "Looks clear."

Of course, they had a tendency to just pop out of fucking nowhere, but at least there weren't any hordes of decaying bodies coming toward them just yet. She turned in the air and swooped back down, landing softly next to him and looking down at the kids, turning her head away as her stomach decided to react violently. She'd puked enough before, and there was no way she was going to let herself do it again. Just needed to keep herself busy, couldn't think too long about what she was doing. Picking up one of the partially folded street signs that they'd been using to dig, she jumped back into the hole and put it to good use. "This is ridiculous. Why do we even bother anymore?"

Tossing a pile of dirt toward the wall where the zombie's body lay crumpled and decaying, she shook her head and turned back to Kurt. "How much longer do you think it'll be before we run out of food, before these fuckers find us and kill us too?"

**Kurt**

Kurt looked up from his work, not at the sickly-wet sound of once human flesh hitting the wall, but at the sound of Rogue's voice as she raged at the slumped form. It was getting to her more than usual today, it seemed, and he wished they could just call it off and go home. Get away from the filth and the stench and the soul-destroying disappointment of searching and fighting and still being _too fucking late._

He didn't even flinch away from the sight of rotting flesh and protruding viscera as he turned back to his task, though his eyes did linger sadly on a nearby swing as it swayed and creaked in what would have qualified as a refreshing breeze if it hadn't carried the choking stench of putrefaction on it. He only stared for a moment, though; only briefly wondered if the children laid out nearby had thought it was safe to sneak out to the park 'for just a minute' in the middle of the afternoon before going back to methodically hacking away at the matted sod at his feet.

It was a routine now. Take out the shambling hordes of the undead at the scene and then one of them would keep an eye out for any further threat while the other scrambled the brains of the latest batch of victims and dug the graves. If they were lucky it was with help from the survivors but the latter seemed to be happening less and less lately. Too many graves and too few survivors, because more often than not they were too late. Sometimes by days and sometimes, like today, only by seconds. Some of the kids had still been screaming when they'd gotten there today, but he blanked that memory from his mind with a shudder. Had too many regrets as it was, he couldn't afford to add to them or he'd crumble under the weight and so he used the steady, mind-numbing labor of digging the grave to keep back memories of having basically pithed the tiny bodies waiting to be lowered into the hole like so many frogs in a biology class.

He turned another pile of earth out of the hole he was now almost shoulder deep in as Rogue took to the air again, checking their perimeter. He was grateful that the sprinkler system in the park still seemed to be running on automatic, though whoever was responsible for it was doubtless long dead...or undead more likely. The ground would have been too _verdammt_ hard to dig, otherwise - well, for him anyway, not for Rogue. As it was he hacked at a tree root in his way with the edge of the stop sign Rogue had folded into a shovel like so much origami paper and tried to decide how much deeper they needed to go.

**"Looks clear,"** Rogue called from overhead, and he tipped his head back to look up at her, pushing sweat-soaked hair back from his eyes and managing a smile, however weak, at the sight of her swooping back towards the earth. It was probably wrong in the middle of this madness that just the sight of her could still make him smile. It didn't last, though, as she looked back at the pile of bodies, her face twisting unmistakably before she picked up her own 'shovel' and set to work next to him.

**"This is ridiculous. Why do we even bother anymore?"**

He wasn't sure if she meant the graves or the patrols, so he chose to answer the latter, because he wasn't even sure himself about the former any more, other than to know that he couldn't _not_ do it. Couldn't leave the desecrated remains of what had once been human life lying in the open like so much offal...or a breakfast bar for the next group of zombies that came lurching by. Anymore, he knew, than she could herself.

His voice was soft when he answered, almost unrecognizable from the low growl that seemed to be his normal tone of late. "Because sometimes we're not too late, _Liebste_. Sometimes..." Even if they both knew that they almost always were these days.   
**  
****Tossing a pile of dirt toward the wall where the zombie's body lay crumpled, she shook her head and turned back to Kurt. "How much longer do you think it'll be before we run out of food, before these fuckers find us and kill us too?"**

"I think we can survive for months on what Herr Professor had packed away in the sub-basements," he answered, matter of fact. "Man preached universal peace and love, but it looks like he was preparing for Armageddon. We can hold out as long as it takes." He tossed another shovelful, complete with a clump of tangled roots he'd hacked out, over the lip of the grave as he met her eyes, not saying the rest, what they both knew. That if they couldn't then a clean death at the hands of a friend was the best they could hope for.

He remembered Scott's face when he'd realized what had happened, that he'd been infected. Remembered how calm he'd been when he'd told them what needed to be done. How completely unrecognizable he'd been from the strong, commanding leader they'd all grown accustomed to leaning on before Herr McCoy had finally admitted defeat in his efforts to find a 'cure'...how peaceful he'd looked when they'd lowered him into the first grave on the back lawn. The first, but not the last.

Shaking his head, as though that could clear away the memories, he threw one last shovelful of dirt and roots from the hole before looking up at Rogue. "I think this is deep enough."

He reached up a hand to her, saving the energy that even such a short teleport would cost him. He hadn't eaten since this morning and there was no telling how much energy he'd have to expend before they got back and ate again. "Let's lay them to rest and then finish this patrol."

**Rogue**  
—  
It was just plain wrong. Wrong that they were burying kids, wrong that they had to hide out underground again, eating rations that tasted like shit... Wrong that, oh yeah, they'd killed some of their friends. She'd seen Scott start to turn, been there, been part of the decision that it was better to kill him than to let him become one of them. Been part of the process of killing him. It'd been a decision that Scott himself more than supported, but as she held his hand, knocking him unconscious so that the claw to the brain that Logan delivered wouldn't hurt, she'd felt the doubt, the pain, the worry. And there was nothing that she could do about it. There was nothing that any of them could do now except for try to keep on top of the zombies, stay one step ahead of them. For some reason, the fact that the zombies were completely mindless, just creatures of pure habit, made it so much harder. She wasn't even sure why they bothered with any of it anymore.

**"Because sometimes we're not too late, Liebste. Sometimes..."**

Right. Sometimes. Rarely. She shook her head, appreciative of the attempt but completely aware of the facts. Sometimes wasn't enough. They were screwed. Royally screwed every which way. All they were sure of anymore were each other, and the number of people that that classification encompassed was getting smaller and smaller as the days wore on. And as much as Kurt tried to grab at the tiny strands of hope that he could find, he was wrong. More and more, they'd been getting there too late. Just in time to watch a zombie who looked eerily similar to her Drama teacher from school or the bag boy at the grocery store eat someone else.

**"I think we can survive for months on what Herr Professor had packed away in the sub-basements. Man preached universal peace and love, but it looks like he was preparing for Armageddon. We can hold out as long as it takes."**

She tilted her head toward him, catching his eyes and frowning. "So long as it only takes months."

Not to mention the fact that the food that'd been packed away in the mansion wasn't exactly the tastiest... better than goddamn brains, though. She frowned as her "shovel" hit the root of a tree, reaching down and pulling the root out of the way, watching almost sadly as the plant life left a crumbling hole in the ground. Everything was dying. Not just the people. Her eyes never left the hole in the wall of the grave as she tilted her head toward Kurt. **"I think this is deep enough."**

She nodded silently, eyes drifting briefly to the children... God, they were just little kids. Little kids who had wanted nothing more than to enjoy themselves. Than to _be_ kids. Sighing, she lifted herself into the air and landed beside the hole, grabbing Kurt's hand and trying not to let the corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile as bare flesh touched bare flesh. She pulled him out of the hole, looking away before she actually let herself be happy about something. She had no right. No right to be excited, proud even, that she'd gotten some semblance of control. Not when they were burying children, not when said control had been at the expense of a woman's life. Gritting her teeth, she turned from him and stepped toward the bodies, stomach turning ever so slightly again. _No thinking about it. Just get it over with._

"You want the heads or feet?" She could easily have laid the kids in the graves herself- even dead, they weren't that heavy to her, but Kurt constantly insisted that they be careful, respectful. As if it was the dead kids that needed the help. They were dead. Didn't have to worry anymore about being turned into something that ate other people. Dead was almost better. Almost. Wasn't the kids who needed their compassion at that point. But it made Kurt feel better, and that was something. Some days, it was everything. They went about their business, laying each of the children gently into the grave, and there was nothing that she could think of to do or say that would make the situation any less disturbing. Well, maybe one thing. "Think we can call it quits after this. Head back."

Even that wasn't nearly as comforting as it should have been.

**Kurt**  
—  
It was a feeble effort at reassurance, he knew it as well as she did and believed it as little, but it was all he had to offer.

**"So long as it only takes months."**

"It's going to have to, isn't it?" he replied, tossing out a couple more mounds of dirt before bracing his shovel against the earth at his feet and asking her for a hand up.

He'd told her once, a lifetime ago it seemed, that sometimes you just had to accept what you could have and make it enough. The context had been different of course, and his lips quirked in a faint, brief smile at the memory but it was just as applicable now as it had been then. The only thing they could control in this world gone mad was how they responded and the only thing they could do short of turning their faces to the wall was to fight and keep fighting until there was no way to go on...and maybe, somehow, that would be enough. It didn't really matter if it was or wasn't, though, since it was the only option left.

There were no options left to _them_, he thought sadly, following her gaze to the small still bodies nearby. Then she was floating lightly from the hole and reaching down to pull him up behind her. It was strange, he thought sadly, that he could more easily remember a time when she'd been earthbound, when touching her skin had been an impossible fantasy and he'd been the stronger of them, than he could a time when the wind hadn't smelled of carrion and the sight of a child's mangled remains would have sent him running for the bushes to empty his stomach.

**"You want the heads or feet?**" she asked, as he bent once more to straighten broken limbs, settle small hands across still breasts. He appreciated the courtesy. Knew she could have tossed them all into the grave they'd dug like so many broken toys but that she didn't for him.

It was only a matter of minutes to lay their tiny charges in the bosom of the earth and he paused, crouched at the edge of the grave, eyes once more fixed on the empty swing as he fingered the small gold cross on its chain at his neck.

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen, he murmured quietly, almost under his breath, as he let a handful of dirt sift onto the upturned faces below.

Eternal rest...there were days when that seemed a mercy he'd pay any price for. Some days, but not today. With a sigh, he surged to his feet, lifting his 'shovel' and joining Rogue in the filling of the small, sad grave. Hopefully they'd still see a mound of earth next time they patrolled this section of town, not a gaping hole and tumbled bones. They'd learned early to bury the victims deep, though it never seemed to be deep enough.

**"Think we can call it quits after this. Head back,"** she offered, and he looked up gratefully as he patted a last 'spadeful' of earth into place. They really should continue their patrol - there might be others - but he was tired and heartsick and she was as well. He could see it in her eyes.

He nodded acquiescence as he tossed his impromptu shovel away. She'd make them more if they needed them again, and they would. For now...he pushed a filthy hand through not quite as filthy hair before stepping to her side, reaching out to brush his palm - his palm, not the fur-covered back of his hand - against her cheek.

Turning his back on the freshly dug grave he leaned in to brush his lips where his hand had passed. He'd say a proper prayer for them, later, but for now they'd done what they could. He wondered if, in the end, there would be anyone left to do the same for them.

"Let's go, Liebste," he finally answered. Another quick kiss and then she was wrapping impossibly strong arms around him and they were lifting into the air.

**Rogue**  
—  
She tried not to act bored as Kurt bowed to pray over the bodies, tried not to outright yawn. It was futile, just like burying the bodies neatly. Wouldn't stop the zombies from coming back for them, wouldn't help them. They'd dug the hole deep. As far as those kids were concerned, they had done all that anyone, God included, could do. If there was a God. Which, clearly, there wasn't. And fuck, if God _did_ exist, he sure as hell sucked at figuring out when a little divine intervention was needed. Surely the dead coming to life and eating the living was reason enough to do something. If there was ever a time for some big old man in white to descend from the heavens and rescue "his people," that was it. Unless he'd taken a good look around and decided that everyone was too fucked over for even his help. Didn't matter. None of it did, really. All that mattered was the fact that they were still alive, even though friends- family- had perished at the hands of the creatures. Once Kurt finished, she started to fill the hole back in, giving him a somewhat weak smile. At least they could go home.

She watched as he finished up with the grave, tossing his sign away and running his hand through his short, curly hair. He looked exhausted. Not that she could blame him, she was pretty damn tired herself, but it wasn't easy seeing him like that. The contrast between the Kurt she'd known for so long and the Kurt she knew now was almost too stark to think about. He reached to touch her face, and her hand followed his, holding it as he slowly dropped it and replaced it with his lips. It seemed like as soon as she'd gotten what she had always wanted, the world decided to pack up for a nice little trip to hell.

**"Let's go, Liebste."** As he kissed her again, she wrapped her arms around him, nodding. One last look toward the grave and she took off, heading straight for Saint Pete's.


	2. Sanctuary

**Rogue**

It'd become just another part of the routine, stopping in at the now abandoned and rather torn apart Catholic Church. She'd been there once before- talked into going to an Easter mass, when the pews were packed with people wearing their best clothes, attending one of the two masses that most of them felt were the only ones needed to secure their little assigned seats in heaven. It'd always felt like a cold place, the stone walls and high windows reminiscent of a castle of some sort, but now, empty, voice echoing so easily in the cavernous building... it somehow, probably rather morbidly, felt warmer.

The zombies had gotten to it, of course, making quite a mess of the altar and (she could only assume) grabbing the priests who lived in the rectory. Toward the front of the pews, under the pulpit, a rack of candles had been set up, and they'd go there, without fail, after burying someone and light a candle for each victim. In the beginning, the one rack had been enough, but over time the candles had expanded, and they'd added another rack. Now, it had gotten to the point where small votives spilled out onto the stone floor surrounding the racks, a row of taller candles at the top of them, each representing one of their teammates.

She sighed, swooping in through what had been the large stained glass window at the back of the cathedral. A bad thunderstorm had knocked a few of the panes out long ago, and the church was in the process of collecting funds to repair it when... when shit hit the fan. Now, it was a convenient spot for entering the building, since zombies seemed to have enough trouble standing upright, let along flying. Luckily, they seemed to stay away for the most part, probably due to the constant fires that were burning in the building, small but bright enough to cast vague shadows across the otherwise dark interior of the church.

The area appeared to be clear, and she tightened her grip around him before jumping from the perch to land in the center aisle, a few rows back from their little memorial. Glancing at the small display, she frowned. Only one candle remained unlit. Jerking her head toward the confessional that had been being used as an impromptu storage area, she looked at Kurt. "Guess I'd better go find another box of candles, huh?"

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
He would have liked to marvel at the fact that they were actually flying, but given the landscape they were moving over there was nothing left to marvel at. It was just a way to get from point a to point b without having something that used to be a person shamble out of the shadows and try to eat their brains. As the charnel house that had once been a bustling city passed beneath them he found it hard to accept that it had only been a few weeks. A few weeks of Hell like Dante never could have imagined...

There were still some small enclaves of resistance, scattered and isolated, where people had managed to barricade themselves in and hold back the undead. But they were growing smaller every day, and as they passed over a rundown strip mall where the locals had thought they could hold back the tide until they were proven wrong a few days ago he averted his eyes with a shudder. They'd buried too many there, and the ones they'd taken back to the Institute after were still hollow-eyed and broken.

He sighed, not quite in relief, as they passed through the broken window into the dubious sanctuary of St. Peter's. He hadn't had to ask her since that first time, they just always came here. After.

It was broken and desecrated, just like the rest of Bayville - from what little they could tell, the rest of the world - but he still could grasp a faint echo of comfort in the weathered wood and stone, the musky-sweet memory of incense and beeswax pushing back the stench for a time, if only in his imagination.

Some of the candles before the alter were guttering fitfully, almost at the end of their life, a reminder of the shattered lives they represented while others still danced in the breeze sweeping in through the equally shattered windows, casting a wan, flickering light through the vast and empty space. None of them had gone out, though, he noted with relief. The sanctuary candles they'd lit for each of their fallen friends, that is, the tiny votives they left to commemorate the lives of strangers guttered and died in only a matter of hours.

As Rogue lowered them to the floor in the center aisle, he quelled the impulse to genuflect. He had, at first. Even though he wasn't quite sure if it was appropriate with the altar desecrated and broken, the font shattered across the floor in the vestibule. The presence lamp had still burned, that first time, and he'd convinced himself that he could still feel His presence here. Now, though...the last time the candle in the presence lamp had died he'd held the misshapen stub in his misshapen hands for long minutes, his chest tight and tears he refused to let fall burning at the back of his eyes. He'd dropped it then, listening as it rolled down the steps before turning away to trim the wick on Scott's candle. He hadn't bothered to replace it since.

If God was still here He wasn't listening to His children anyway...and yet still he prayed. Prayed to a God that had let chaos loose on their world, lit candles for souls that he could no longer quite believe hadn't simply been snuffed out. Took some faint, visceral and unidentifiable comfort from the forms, even if he could no longer quite believe they really mattered.

He turned, golden eyes slipping back into focus as she laid a hand on his shoulder and jerked her head toward the confessional where the Church's few remaining supplies were stored. 

**"Guess I'd better go find another box of candles, huh?"**

He nodded absently as she moved away, his gaze lingering on her retreating form for a moment before he shook himself and headed towards their make-shift shrine. Lit the last remaining candle as he absently muttered a Heilige Maria, checked the pillars and decided they had another couple of days before Herr Xavier's would need replacing. Idly fingered the worn beads of the rosary in his pocket, the one Opa had carved the beads for from the wood of Oma's apple tree, and refused to wonder if any of them still survived.

At the sound of Rogue's quiet footsteps returning up the aisle behind him he turned. "We need...five more for now," he told her, reaching for the box in her hands. "And we should try to find more matches if we can."

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
She almost hated having to walk away from him to find the candles, his face was distraught and his mind was obviously still on... God, on everything. She slid her hand slowly off his shoulder, though, and made her way through the broken building to the confessional. The door opened with a creak, probably one of many things that the pastor had been meaning to get to but never would. Stepping into the small, dark booth she moved a few boxes of vestments and altar dressings, finally finding another case of candles. At the rate they were going, it would be only a matter of weeks before that box ran out as well. Of course, there seemed to be less and less movement out on the streets that wasn't zombie. So maybe the flow of dead folks would taper off a bit. Lifting the box, she stepped back out of the confessional, pushing the other boxes back inside and setting the large case on top of them, tearing it open and removing one of the smaller boxes of votives.

She closed the door and moved back toward Kurt, who was already praying over one of the candles, his hand inside his pocket, probably holding the rosary that she knew he never left home without, futile as the gesture seemed. She wanted to reach out, assure him that things were okay, that he needn't worry about his family. He tried to hide the anxiety about it, but it was clear every time he looked at a picture of them. But trying to reassure him was useless. She knew well enough to know that he wouldn't buy it. Might appreciate the attempt, but in the end it would only make him feel worse about it, and so she didn't say anything, approaching him as silently as she could. **"We need...five more for now," he told her, reaching for the box in her hands. "And we should try to find more matches if we can."**

She nodded, opening the cardboard box and handing five of the shockingly white candles to him. It was almost surreal, how perfect their condition was. The world was crumbling around them, the ground, the air- it all seemed to be a perpetual shade of decaying murky gray, but the candles were in pristine condition, cleaner and more complete than anything she'd seen outside of the Institute for some time. Setting the box on the edge of one of the pews, she stepped aside and let Kurt light the candles, all the while watching the flickering lights that represented the people who had been their friends.

There was a candle there for Mr. McCoy, too. He'd gone off one day on patrol and never came back. They didn't know if he'd died or been turned, but people claimed having spotted him stumbling among the undead. It was really a kick in the 'nads, if that was true. Out of all of the brains they'd had to destroy, that one was going to be the hardest. If they ever found him. Sitting in the pew next to Kurt as he prayed, she felt completely useless. He knew she didn't believe that any of what they were doing would actually help, that she saw it all as a way to remember the people instead of a way to usher them into the afterlife or whatever the hell it was supposed to do. But that didn't make her feel any less guilty about just sitting there while he prayed. She quietly reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Wasn't really helpful, but it was something.

She'd thought for sure that when the world ended, it would be all at once, in a flash of white light or something equally sudden and dramatic. The slow torment of watching things crumble around her as her own life had suddenly started to seem less disastrous was not at all expected, although in retrospect, it probably should have been, given her luck. As Kurt slid up onto the pew beside her, she draped her arm around him, holding him close. There really wasn't much left at all, only what they had. And sometimes, she wondered if it was going to keep on being enough.

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
He just stared at the candles for a long moment, shockingly white and clean in the filth surrounding them. They were pretty cheap, actually; the Church hadn't splurged for anything fancy. Or, rather, it had but they'd used the beeswax tapers up in the first couple of weeks and now these were all they had left. If he closed his eyes, though, he could almost catch the faint, honey-tinged scent lingering on the air, mixing with the exotic perfume from the censers...but it was just an illusion.

Opening his eyes again he set to work, settling the new candles atop the burnt out stubs of old, large fingers fumbling with the tiny matches from a book with some doubtless dead - or undead - lawyer's number printed on the back and it was almost too much. He stopped, hands shaking slightly as he took a long, slow breath, trying to ignore the faint scent of putrefaction that they could never quite escape as he focused on the simple task at hand.

Light the candles. Say the prayers. Go through the motions and hope to still be alive tomorrow to go through the motions again. It took a moment, but when he finally struck the next match it took light and he touched it quickly to the wicks, adding six more flickering points of light to the rest. Brief candles in honor of lives snuffed out...

He pocketed the matchbook - only three matches left after the two he'd wasted - and then slid into the pew next to Rogue. He knew she didn't believe, never had, but she'd helped him without a word. They'd cleaned up the worst of the filth the zombies had left behind, burned the soiled altar cloths, swept up the shards of glass from the shattered windows. Ferreted out candles and candelabra and hoarded matches when they found them. He was fairly certain that the candles were important to her as well, just in a different way than they were...had been...to him. They never actually spoke of it, though, not between themselves or to anyone else, so it was only a guess.

Her arm slipping around his shoulders, pulling him close against her side, felt like the only warmth left in the world and he leaned silently into her, letting his tail coil around her thigh as he turned away from the light. He didn't have any prayers left in him today and the violated sanctuary and feebly guttering flames provided no comfort, no warmth, no light.

Reaching up, he ran calloused fingers gently across her cheek, his thumb brushing a silent question at her lips before his hand slid up farther to tangle in her hair. Without saying a word he leaned over to press his lips to hers, hungry and demanding as he twisted slightly in the seat so that his other arm could pull her closer still. There was precious little comfort left in their world but this one thing, the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her skin, taste of her lips...even here and now, at least for a little while, it was enough.

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
She couldn't stand seeing the pain in his eyes. God, couldn't even really _see_ his eyes, yellow as they were, but the sadness was there, loud and clear. She much preferred her Fuzzy cracking a joke or tumbling through the air in an overly theatrical and wholly idiotic attempt to steal someone's dessert. The worrying was something that she could do without. Seeing him sad made her sad, always had. Even before... before she knew about Mystique, before she knew about how she really felt about him. _Before this whole goddamn mess_. 

He leaned into her half-embrace, tail working it's way across her thigh, and she reached over to absently trace the edges of the spade, turning toward him as his thick fingers pulled silently across her cheek, thumb pausing at her lips, lightly brushing against them and sending chills up her spine. Although she'd been able to control it for some time, the feeling of bare skin against hers was still incredibly electrifying and sometimes overwhelming.

His lips caught hers and she closed her eyes, the feeling of his mouth right up against hers, no barriers, nothing to keep them from exploring with their tongues as they saw fit, making her moan softly. Without really thinking about it, she started to shrug off the zombie covered trenchcoat that had become a part of her uniform, covering the bare arms that she still wasn't entirely comfortable with having exposed. He pulled her in, twisting to get a better angle, and she leaned back, letting the weight of his body push her down onto the bench. 

They were alive. Most of the Institute's inhabitants were still kicking, and she didn't really give a flying fuck about how they coped with the situation, but she knew one thing. She was alive, and she intended on acting like it. Pulling him in gently, she let her hands run across the back of his neck, along his hairline and to his ears, where she traced the contours with the tip of her fingers. More than ever before, she needed his weight on top of her, needed to feel the pressure. So few things were heavy anymore, and she often worried that she was losing touch with reality, seeing things as more simple than she should have, taking things for granted. She didn't like that, didn't like the idea that she would lose _sensation_, stop being able to feel him pressing against her.

She didn't want to think about it, though. Didn't want to think about anything other than the beating of her heart, the silent pulsing of his mouth against hers, the movements that told her that not only were they alive, but they were _living_.

* * *


	3. Prayer

And here's where that mature rating comes in. If you're offended or disturbed by relatively explicit content then do yourself and us a favor and don't read any farther. If you are reading, though, it'd be great if you could review – it'd be nice to know what we're doing right or wrong or even if anyone's enjoying this at all. There's one more chapter of this pre-written but whether we bother continuing from there is a matter of whether it seems like anyone actually cares one way or the other.

**Kurt**  
—  
_Gott_, she'd let her hand stray to the spade of his tail and he felt his pants grow almost instantly tight, and when she shivered slightly at his touch it was all the encouragement he needed to close the little distance between them. The feel of her bare lips against his, the satin of her cheek against the horny palm of his hand, even after almost three months it was...electrifying.

She moaned when he kissed her, deep and demanding, and she began to pull free of her trenchcoat, working to rid herself of the residue of the afternoon's activities as much as to get more flesh exposed. It was only a moment's work, and his tail eagerly helped to pull it completely out of the way as she leaned back and let the weight of his body carry her down.

The fact that she didn't have to made it all the more thrilling that she did, and he shifted smoothly to cover her body with his own, one foot braced against the floor in the narrow confines of the pew. He could have pushed against her until hell froze over - though he thought it more likely these days that it would simply decay - but he wouldn't have gotten anywhere unless she _chose _to let him. But she did, and the feel of her body beneath him, warm and responsive and alive, was enough to push everything else back for at least a little while.

He shuddered, moaning into her mouth as she ran gentle fingers through his hair, traced them across the delicately elongated tips of his ears in a way that made him groan and press down hard against her. _Jesu_, she was winding him up fast and tight today, first the tail and now the ears, and he pulled back just far enough to grin down at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

She was beautiful, and he just let himself look for a long moment, drinking her in as his tail busied itself exploring the familiar yet ever-fascinating landscape of her thighs. Finally, he ran a hand up and in, gently cupping one breast through the fabric of her uniform before going farther and taking hold of the zipper. He dipped back down for another quick kiss, his tongue pressing into her mouth, and then pulled back just far enough to slide the zipper down between them.

His shirt was gone already, disposed of before they started digging graves. He'd decided early on that, in their current line of work, t-shirts were a disposable resource and so he'd wiped himself as clean as he could with the inside of the one he'd been wearing and then abandoned it - along with the bandana that had kept his now-short hair relatively clean - on the ground. Now he pulled her uniform open and pressed himself back down, moaning at the feel of her breasts against his chest, nipples brushing through his short, dense fur.

He'd felt guilty the first time they'd done this here, in God's House, but the need of her had been too overwhelming then, and now…now he could understand the ancient pagan religions that had held sex as a sacred rite. It seemed, anymore, that almost the only time he felt truly alive was when he was cradled in the heat of her body, and he thought that any God who would grudge them this, even in His House, was no more worthy of his prayers than a God who would loose this scourge upon the world. And so he didn't think of it at all. Just thought about the taste of her as he bent back down to capture her mouth with his; the feel of her heart beating against his ribs as he settled his weight entirely on her; the silk-satin of her hair as he ran his hand up and loosed it from its tie, let it cascade through his fingers as he cradled the back of her head. And, _lieber__Gott_, the smoothness of her skin as he pushed her uniform down, trailing his fingers teasingly across the delicate skin of her inner arm as he went.

He couldn't keep her safe. He couldn't make things right. The only thing he could do was love her, here and now and every chance he had because there was no guarantee of tomorrow. And if all the world was indeed going to hell and there was nothing he could do about it, he could at least give thanks for this one thing.

"_Liebe_ _dich_," he murmured against her lips with a sigh. "_Liebe_ _dich immer."_

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
She let out a soft moan as he pressed himself against her, reaching for the clips under her shoulder pads. The chest plate slid off of the uniform, and she let it fall to the floor, pulling him in and pressing herself against him, her bare arms brushing through the thick fur on his body, the feel of his hand as it pressed against her breast through the uniform incredibly, maddeningly frustrating. Luckily, he made a move for the zipper of the uniform, kissing her as he worked it free. 

They'd be late getting back from their patrol. Unless there was something good to distract the others, there might even be questions, but in all honesty, they _had_ just buried six innocent little children, and if people needed to know, they could even tell them about the church. About the candles, and the prayers which never seemed to be answered and probably never would. Nobody would say anything. Not when everyone was trying so hard to stay sane and whole, and everyone was looking for something to hold on to. Besides, it wasn't like they did this _every_ time they came to the church.

Just some of the time.

He pulled the uniform open and she started to work her arms out of the arm holes, grateful that she'd removed the full-length sleeves of the uniform shortly after she gained control. Made things easier, especially with the shoulder pads still firmly attached. He pressed into her, letting out a moan that had her wanting to press into him harder, pull him against her, just feel him for awhile. Her breath quickened as he leaned in again, mouth moving swiftly to press against hers, the feel and taste and texture of him a welcome respite from the way the rest of the world felt.

He freed her hair, which had grown long over the months, from its band and she laid her head back against the pew momentarily, his hand providing a warm and comfortable nook for it to rest in. He pushed the uniform down, the slightly chilled air of the cavernous building starting to have some small effect on her. But it didn't matter, as he traced his fingers along the underside of her arm, causing chills of an entirely different kind to shoot up her spine once again. **"Liebe dich," he murmured against her lips with a sigh. "Liebe dich immer."**

She smiled against his mouth, pulling her head back just long enough to reply, "I know." Pulling him in again, she kissed him as she used her free hand to unbutton his pants, careful not to rip them. That'd happened a few times, especially early on, before she was used to the added strength. Fuck, she still wasn't entirely used to it. But being late was one thing, being late and pantsless was another altogether. Luckily, though, she was able to get the buttons free without causing any permanent damage to the pants. And considering the fact that the crowd at the mall was quite a bit more hostile than it used to be, keeping clothes intact was definitely a good thing. Looping her arm around his waist, she pressed forward with both her body and her mouth, kissing him hard before pulling back to add to her earlier statement, "I love you too."

In her rather limited knowledge of the German language, that had been one of the few phrases that she'd caught onto. She had no clue what "immer" meant, but unless it was a shortened version of "just kidding, you suck and not in the good way," she didn't care. And if the books Kurt had in his room were any evidence, the German way of saying something was _never_ the shortened way.

She ran her hands through his fur, deep into the nap, letting them brush against the skin beneath, one hand trailing across his chest, teasing his nipple. She leaned forward and trailed kisses across his face, mouth eventually reaching his ear, where she nipped gently at the point as her hands made their way down his back, settling at the spot near the base of his tail, one hand starting to trail lightly up the tail itself.

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
He felt her lips quirk into a smile against his at his words before she pulled back a fraction. **"I know,"** she answered, and something in his chest tightened at the casualness of her response. The first time he'd said those words to her, not all that long ago, he'd half-hoped she wouldn't understand, but now... The world was falling to hell around them, there was probably something wrong with the fact that, at this precise moment in time, he was completely happy. 

He went eagerly as she pulled him back down, her fingers working between them to worry carefully at the button of his pants and he half-smiled at the memory of the three pair - and innumerable shirts - she'd accidentally shredded before she learned to control her strength...mostly. Now, though, she managed the operation with no adverse consequences, and he gasped as warm fingers and cool air touched heated flesh. _Sehr_ _gut..._ She pulled him down, simultaneously arching up to meet him and he nudged her thighs farther apart with his knees, settling tighter against her body as she pressed her lips fiercely to his.

**"I love you too."** The fingers woven in her hair tightened their grip convulsively and he turned his face to nip lightly at the line of her jaw, shoulders arching up and back as she dragged her fingers through his fur, all the way to the skin beneath. Loved her touching him. Any part of him, any time, but especially in the ways they'd never expected to be possible. He couldn't imagine ever taking it for granted as she skimmed a hand across his chest, teasing his nipple in a way that brought a wicked smile to his lips and his hips grinding down hard against her as he pushed the tight spandex farther down her body, baring more and more satin-smooth skin to his touch as he went.

She left a trail of kisses across his cheek and his hand lingered at her hip, calloused fingers tracing patterns in alabaster flesh in counterpoint to the movement of her fingers across his back. His tail had just come up to tug her uniform down past her hips when she switched her attention to his ear, nibbling at the point as she simultaneously settled one hand at the base of his tail and he squeezed her ass convulsively. His fingers would have left bruises on anyone else, and even knowing that he couldn't hurt her he tried to hold back...but then her other hand moved to trail down the length of his tail and he growled low in his chest, his breath coming short and his movements shifting from almost languid to something close to frantic.

Oh Jesus...he groaned into her neck, fangs pressed hard against skin that, _Gott_ _sei danke_, wouldn't show a mark as he hooked his toes into her uniform and dragged it roughly off, letting it drop to the floor with a dry rustle. Nothing beneath him but skin, now. Pale and smooth and he dipped down to catch a firm, dark nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he fumbled with his free hand and his tail to push his own pants down, growled in an entirely different way than before when they stalled at his knees as he tried to work his tail free.

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
She'd gotten quite good at blocking things out. Right then, for example, she had all but forgotten about the disaster that was the world, and the fact that mere feet away from them, small memorials burned for their friends. Living for the moment was not just a fun phrase, it was reality. There was no way to know whether or not they'd be alive tomorrow, no real way of knowing whether or not they'd be alive in an hour. All they really _had_ for certain was right then. Only thing that mattered was the grin on his face and the warmth of his body, the pressure against her skin as his thick fingers pushed the uniform down even further. 

Keeping a grin off of her own face with some trouble, she kissed her way to his ear, nipping at the point while her hand made a move for his tail. It hadn't taken much time for her to figure out exactly where on his body she had to go in order to get things really heated up. The ears, the base of his tail, the spade of his tail... hell, the tail itself. All big "go" points. And it seemed to be working. He pressed his fingers hard into her ass, the pressure feeling like it would go right through her. She let out a gasp, free hand starting to trace down the length of his tail and closing her eyes briefly as he let out a deep growl and sped up considerably.

It was all she could do not to laugh as he dug his fangs into her neck. It should have hurt, she should have probably been bleeding, writhing in pain, but in reality, it just tickled a little bit. She could feel the points of his teeth, but sharp as they were, they still didn't draw blood. Using his feet, he pulled her uniform the rest of the way off, the built in boots and kneepads falling to the stone floor, and she let her hands wander up again, tracing his tail all the way up his spine. His mouth moved from her neck down to her chest, lips concentrating on her nipple, causing her to arch her back, moaning softly.

No, she definitely hadn't lost sensation in the way she'd feared she eventually would. Not in the least. Yet. As Kurt let out a growl that was far, far from the kind she so loved hearing from him, she nearly lifted the both of them in the air, realizing just in the nick of time that he was, in fact, fighting with his pants. Not the undead. Chuckling softly, she reached behind him and ran her hand up his tail, pulling it free of the tangle of his pants and letting them drop to the pew, where she kicked them to the ground and raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling. "Those pants kicked your ass."

Pulling him against her, she floated up into the air slightly, lowering them again in a slightly more comfortable position, mouth latching onto his immediately, one hand back in place at the base of his tail while her other proceeded to make the small trip to the front of his body, pressing against the soft flesh of his cock, an action which _always_ drove her close to the edge. The sheer fact that she was able to do that was incredibly stimulating in and of itself, and she hooked her legs around him, urging him downward.

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
He mock-glared at her when she laughed at his mounting frustration with his pants. _Scheisse_, he was beginning to wish she'd just ripped the _verdammt_ things off at this point...but then the feel of her hand running up his tail, raising his hackles and sending sparks straight to his cock, was more than compensation for the hassle. 

**"Those pants kicked your ass."** she informed him as she freed his tail and kicked the offending garment to the floor.

"Maybe, but it's not my ass I'm thinking about," he answered, lips quirking suggestively as he slipped a hand between her thighs, fingers pressing into her and his thumb brushing lightly at her clit just as she lifted the pair of them into the air. And, Gott, she was warm and wet and ready and he wanted her so bad it was really the only thought he could hold in his mind. The heat of her body, the need to sink into her, bury himself in her until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began and the world extended no farther than their labored breathing and pounding hearts.

As she settled them back on the pew he let her distract him from her breast, instead kissing her with almost bruising force as she pressed her fingers into the base of his tail again. A deep, rumbling growl built in his chest and then her other hand was on his erection, caressing over-heated, over-sensitized flesh as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He didn't need any further urging and he moved his hand away, dripping with her juices, and replaced it with his cock in one long, hard stroke, throwing his head back with an almost sobbing groan at the feel of her enveloping him.

She was hot and wet and so incredibly tight and there was nothing more important in his universe right now than pinning her to the bench beneath him. Making her moan and writhe and scream and _come_, as many times as possible, and he slid a hand beneath her ass, oblivious to the hard wood of the pew beneath his knees as he shifted her hips up slightly and began to pound into her.

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
The look on his face as she laughed was enough to make her laugh even harder. She was trying not to. Really, she was, but... most folks had mastered the art of dressing and undressing themselves at a very young age. She reached out to help him, thoroughly amused with it all, and informed him just how badly he'd gotten owned by an inanimate object. She was still shaking her head as she knocked them off the pew and he responded, **"Maybe, but it's not my ass I'm thinking about."** Raising an eyebrow, she opened her mouth to comment but was cut off as his fingers slipped inside her, filling the space rather easily and causing her to let out a gasp as she lifted them into the air, straining to remember not to go too far off the pew... the ceiling was high and falling wasn't fun. 

She lowered them down again, hand traveling back to the base of his tail, mouth pressing hungrily against his, the world dissolving around her as he started to growl in a way that sounded almost like a deep purr. Her hand moved to the front, returning his favor with as much of a grin as she could muster with her mouth still pressed against his. His hand was still working, and she wrapped her legs around him, urging him onward. Luckily, he got the message loud and clear and moved his hand, driving himself into her with a sudden, hard thrust.

Rogue inhaled sharply as he buried himself inside of her, all thoughts of the hell that Earth had become completely vanquished from her mind as the only thing at _all_ that mattered was him. Even the flickering candles, still recovering from the slight breeze that their sudden flight had caused no longer mattered, callous as that seemed. He slid a hand down, holding her ass and moving her a bit, and she held an arm out, bracing herself against the back of the pew as he thrust repeatedly into her. Her back arched and she had to concentrate to keep her legs from pulling him in too hard, hurting him. Fingers digging into the wood of the pew, she let out a moan, wavering with the motion that was practically shaking the pew. She wasn't religious at all, but the only semi-coherent thought that was floating through her mind that she could vocalize without too much trouble, was "Oh, God."

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
_Ach_, _Gott_...that sound she made as he buried himself in her, he'd never get tired of it. Never get tired of anything about this. The feel of her, tense and straining as she arched up into him, her legs trembling as she strove to find the balance between urging him on and snapping him like a twig...and _Jesu_, that thought alone was still almost enough to send him over the edge. 

Right here, she was his altar, _this _was his prayer; gasping incoherent endearments into her hair in a ragged mixture of German and Rom as he pounded into her with almost bruising force, the pew creaking beneath them in protest. He just..._needed_..._closer_...and his hands tightened their grip, fingers digging hard into pale flesh and disheveled auburn hair as he crept closer to the edge. Belly tight and breath just a sobbing gasp, he finally thought to fight the wave that was beginning to crash over him...because once it did it would be over, at least for now. They'd be back in a broken, desecrated Church, the stink of putrefaction drifting on the air and the only sound for miles the moan of wind on the trees fading into the moan of the restless undead.

**"Oh, God."** Her voice was a hoarse gasp and it was almost lost in the sharp crack of wood as her grip splintered the back of the pew and he pulled back, fangs bared and panting, to look down at her, trace the line of her brow with his lips...down her nose...latching hungrily onto her mouth once more as he settled into a rhythm he could maintain for at least a little while.

God had abandoned the children of His Creation, the light was gone...all they had for certain was this moment and he was going to make it last for as long as he could

* * *


	4. Penance

This is the last we have written out, though we have notes for prologue/flashbacks dealing with how it all began, who's still there and what's happened to them as well as how things go from here. Much more plot than smut but we're not sure if we'll bother with it at this point as there doesn't seem to be much interest in the story. So, yeah, if you're reading, if you care at all, drop us a review. For the record, we're perfectly happy with critiques and profoundly amused by flames. Oh, and we probably will stick the whole 'how they ended up together' thing one of these days soon if there's any interest in the how and why of what we realize is a rather unorthodox pairing.

**Rogue**  
—  
God, if that boy didn't slow down he was bound to hurt himself. At least this time, though, it would be all on him. She was keeping her hands to herself for the most part, and her legs... well, she was trying at least. He drove himself into her, deeper, harder, and she gripped onto the pew harder, the gibberish (and she was positive that that's all it was) he was muttering into her ear making her want to tighten her legs around him, pull him in, bury him deeper than he thought he was able to go... but he seemed to be doing a good job of that on his own. She groaned, tilting her hips further and the friction of his body against her, brushing steadily against just about all of the sensitive areas pushed her closer and closer and... "Oh, God."

The pew cracked, a big chunk of it coming off in her hand, and she looked at the splintered wood for a split second before dropping it to the floor behind the pew and looking up as Kurt slowed down, planting kisses down the front of her face and finally stopping at her mouth, body moving consistently slower but no less maddeningly. Reaching up, she ran her hand along his hairline, down behind his ear and eventually back to his spine, circling to rest on his waist once she could no longer reach. Pulling him down into her somewhat gently, she brushed the hand still covered in splinters off on the top of the pew and held his face, savoring the feeling of his mouth against hers, lips- skin - touching with no barrier, and moaning. It seemed like just yesterday things had to be done through a protective layer, always hesitating, thinking far too much. Now it was more about the actions, and while they still had to be careful, it was for entirely different reasons. She could feel _him_ inside her. Nothing in the way, just Kurt.

A breeze swept gently through the building, fluttering through the plastic sheets that covered the broken windows and disturbing the candles, ruffling his fur ever so slightly. Her hand moved from his face to his back, pushing his fur up against the grain, forming a small ridge on his back, then petting it down again, all the while continuing to urge him on with her other hand. What she wanted more than anything at that moment, was to feel him explode inside her, the sticky heat that she could swear she could feel spreading inside her, and the thought of it brought her close to the edge again.

Unhooking one of her legs from around him, she braced it against the bottom of the pew with a groan as the angle changed once again, her heel driving into the seat, pressing through the wood with a muffled crunch as she gasped his name.

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
The feeling of her body contracting around him, pulling him in deeper, was indescribable, and he pulled back to look down at her as she came, panting with the effort of holding back as he watched the waves of pleasure pass over her. He'd tease her later about the pew - one more thing to add to the long and ever-expanding list of things she'd broken during sex. So long as he wasn't added to it he didn't really give a damn - but for now he had other priorities. 

Trailing his lips across her face, down to her mouth, he focused his attention on slowing down, on feeling...every...last...inch of her, naked beneath and around him in a way he'd never imagined would be possible...on driving her back to that edge and keeping her there as long as he possibly could.

It was no less urgent now, just lest rushed, and he thrust deep into her, exploring her mouth thoroughly as she brushed gentle fingers along his face, stroked her way down his spine. He shivered slightly as a breeze brushed across them, ruffling his fur and blowing the few indigo locks still long enough to reach across his eyes. His tail had curled around her calf at some point, squeezing and releasing in rhythm with his movements inside her body, but now it snaked free, the sensitive spade brushing teasingly up the inside of her thigh before dipping briefly into the wet heat where their bodies joined.

She was ruffling the fur of his back against the nap and then smoothing it down again in the same rhythm he was stroking into her, the pew rocking steadily with each thrust. He pushed up slightly, panting as he watched her through hooded golden eyes, his tail moving again, up her belly to play with the cool metal of the barbell in her navel before tracing a still slightly damp trail from there to circle a dark nipple.

_Jesu_, she was so _verdammt_ beautiful, and the pressure was still building, tensing his muscles and making it harder and harder to keep to the pace he'd set himself. Leaning down with a groan he ran his tongue across the path his tail had left, the taste of her musky and intoxicating and he latched onto her turgid nipple, rolling it with his tongue as his tail slipped down again. She shifted then, bracing a foot against the bottom of the pew, changing the angle of her hips and dragging a muffled groan from him in response.

Wood splintered as she gasped his name, pulsing tight and hot around his cock, pulling him into her at the same time as it pushed him closer to the edge. The ache was almost unbearable now and his rhythm faltered, his breath coming in short, panting gasps against the skin of her breast as he tried to keep control. He wasn't ready for it to be over yet...

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
As she splintered the back of the pew, her eyes flickered for a second over to the other partially demolished pews that they'd moved around. Thank _God_ "zombies" was a simple answer that people were willing to accept. Granted, few people knew about their little shrine at the church, but those who did were all close, close friends and while it was no secret that they were together, it was still a little more information than she generally liked to give out about their sex life. 

Which was _incredible_. God, even if the sex had been awful, it still would have been wonderful. Just the fact that she could be so close, that she no longer had to rely on other means was enough. But it was more than that; the sensation had taken on more of a meaning than simple contact, what had started as just a hormonal act had shifted and now held a much larger, much deeper meaning. She wasn't sure exactly when she'd realized that she did truly love him, but as the world came crashing down around them in a slow motion, it became one of the few things that she knew was definite. And as much as she felt for the people who'd died, every single time they came upon another body, were forced to mercy-kill someone who was turning, relief had washed over her because that was one more incident wherein he wasn't the victim.

Long ago, she'd decided that no matter what happened, she was going to try to be just as strong mentally as she had become physically, and for the most part, she'd succeeded, but every time she thought about how easily one of their teammates had been taken, how easily _he_ could be taken, she almost lost it. Thinking about any of that for too long was never a good idea, and Kurt was more than happy to provide ample distraction, remind her of just how alive he was, how alive _they_ still were.

The chill that was always present in the air was completely gone, replaced by a heat that radiated across her entire body, beads of sweat starting to work their way down her face, jarred farther along their trails with each solid thrust. The breeze that swept through the church was quite welcomed, and she trailed her hands along his back, patting down the fur that the breeze had pushed up and then pulling her hand flat across it, pushing it back up again so she could repeat the action. His tail worked its way free from her calf, and it trailed up her leg, sending shivers across her body before it plunged briefly down, eliciting a small groan from her throat.

As the tail worked it's way up her stomach, circling her piercing, the point leaving a quickly cooling trail of moisture in it's wake, she arched her back. It moved on, circling her nipple and soon his mouth was following the path, eventually connecting with her nipple, driving her closer and closer to another release. She moved her leg, needing desperately to brace against something, anything. Unfortunately, the pew wasn't really the best choice for that as he groaned, sending her flying over the edge again, barely choking out his name as her foot went pretty much clear through the bench.

And he just kept on going, mouth still covering her nipple, rocking his body against hers. He was struggling, she could tell. Inhaling as deeply as she could, she tried to bring her breathing back to something closer to normal, stop her head spinning long enough to help him out. Hand going to his chin, she pulled him in for another kiss, the taste of _her_ still lingering on his mouth. Other hand shooting back down to the base of his tail, she broke off the kiss long enough to suggest, "Hold on."

Pulling him against her, one leg still looped haphazardly around his, she raised them slowly into the air, mouth pressing into his, foot pulling out of the pew with another crunch of wood. As she pulled him into her, second hand moving down to join the first on his ass, she continued to rise, stopping once they reached the ledge halfway up the opened bell tower, where one of the few remaining stained glass windows let light filter gently in. She settled them onto the ledge, grateful that the glass distorted the outside world enough that it still seemed beautiful, and broke off the kiss, whispering somewhat hoarsely and accentuating each word with a slight nibble on his ear or by tightening her grip at the base of his tail, "Whenever you're ready."

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
Jesu...this was the only worship he believed in any more the only time he felt whole and alive. Right here in her arms and between her thighs, feeling the pounding of her heart and the pulsing of her body around him. As she pulled him back up to kiss her, he plunged his tongue into the heat of her mouth, deep and hard, groaning explosively as her other hand went straight to _that _spot. 

**"Hold on,"** was the only warning he got, whispered against his lips as she pulled him more tightly to her. Barely enough time to twine his legs more tightly with hers, his tail snaking around her waist and his arms enfolding her tightly as she lifted them both into the air. Gott...he couldn't get any leverage, couldn't move against her, but it almost didn't matter, because they were flying, naked as God made them and in the sanctuary of His Church and she was lifting them into the rainbow light of one of the last remaining stained glass windows.

He bent to lick beads of sweat, luminescent in the sunset dazzle, from between her breasts as she lowered them gently to a ledge, her head once more pillowed on his hand. Looked down to see vermilion and azure pooled on alabaster skin, staining the silver-gilt of her bangs indigo, blending them with his own as he leaned over her again, gasping, desperate, and pressed his lips to hers, pressed his body into her again. Hard and fast and so close to the edge, needing to fall but still holding on.

And then she was breaking the kiss to put her lips to his ear. Warm brush of breath on the fine fur there, nip of teeth on sensitive skin to punctuate her words in perfect rhythm with the hands working at the base of his tail, with his frantic rocking into the pulsing heat of her body.

**"Whenever you're ready."**

And, Gott, he'd never be ready. Never be ready for it to end. Wanted her like this every minute of every day, warm and alive and vibrant beneath him and around him. Safe. Had to settle for the few moments they could steal between bringing death and witnessing it and he didn't want to let go, but he couldn't hold on any longer. Slammed into her one last time, deep and hard and almost howling as his whole body tensed and spasmed, filling her.

And it felt like forever, suspended in the heart of a rainbow before the final shocks passed and he collapsed against her, face buried in the sweet curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. Tongue lapping delicately at the salt of her skin, free hand toying gently with her breast as his tail simply held her to him. Safe. His. Felt like another eternity before he had breath enough to whisper, hoarse against her skin. "Du bist verwirrend schoen, Liebste."

Du bist verwirrend schoen, Liebste - you are so beautiful, beloved

* * *

**Rogue**

Granted, being in the air made it harder for the same movements to continue, but it definitely added a certain something to the experience. And if there was a wall handy? With the way that Kurt stuck to things, it was absolutely indescribable. She was half tempted to stop before they reached the window, but the sun would be gone soon, too low in the sky to cast much light in. And there were walls back at the Institute. As she lowered them down again, he put his head down, tongue moving against her skin as the light fanned out from the window, casting a colorful, mosaic-like shadow on the opposite wall of the tower.

She locked lips hungrily with him as he started moving again, feeling him tense up slightly, obviously trying to hold off as long as he could. Pulling her mouth away from his as much to let him breathe as anything else, she leaned in to his ear, nibbling on it and letting him know that he needn't hold out for her benefit. At that point, the only thing that could have possibly ruined it for her was a zombie flying through the window.

Kurt seemed to take the cue and he drove in once more and cried out, a sound that, animalistic as it was, personified humanity in her eyes. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as he came, drinking in the sensation, the feeling of him inside her, above her, as his muscles tensed and relaxed sharply and he fell against her. There was a time when he would have held himself up for fear of hurting her. Thank God that phase had passed.

She craned her neck slightly as he tasted her skin, hand moving against her breast, palm flush against the skin, panting. Hands traced down his back once more, massaging the muscles of his lower back as her toes traced lazy zigzags across the bottom of his foot. God, she didn't want to leave, didn't want to have to step out of the safety of the church, the safety of his arms... okay, her arms. She didn't want to step back out into the harsh reality of what the world was. One hand worked its way up to his head, where it raked softly through damp curls, the light from the window casting pools of color on the waves of his hair. It was, in a word, breathtaking.

Her breathing made its way closer to normal as her heart rate slowed, and Kurt whispered against her, bursts of air tickling her neck, **"Du bist verwirrend schoen, Liebste."** She sighed, smiling and still stroking his head, as she reminded him, "Hon, I don't speak German."

Not that it mattered. Didn't need to speak the same language to get the gist of what he was saying. She held him closer, sighing into the top of his head. "How long you figure we can stay here 'til they send out a search party?"

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
The feel of her hands stroking across his fur, raking through his hair. The soft rise and fall of her chest as her breathing slowly regularized. Warmth of her skin beneath his cheek and the taste of her against his tongue. All bathed in radiant pools of light as the sun cast its last rays through the massive window behind them, sent their shadows dancing on the wall below...he didn't want to move, despite the hard stone beneath them and the fall chill setting in, and a low, steady purr thrummed through his chest as he held her to him, whispered endearments against the sweat-damp skin of her throat as he pulled reluctantly from her body. 

**"Hon, I don't speak German."** she reminded him, and he could hear the smile in her voice, didn't need to lift his head to see it. But he did anyway, because it was something he'd never get tired of...and saw too rarely anymore. Dropped a teasing kiss on the end of her nose before working his way down to her lips to kiss her long and slow before speaking again, voice vibrating, warm and rough, with his unabated purr.

"As many times as you've absorbed me," he kissed her again, rough tongue tracing out to her ear where he paused to nibble at her earlobe before continuing in a thrumming whisper, "you'd think you'd remember enough." He slipped down her neck again, licking and kissing a trail to the hollow of her throat, where he sucked lightly for a moment, pulling the blood to the surface before looking up again, "to know when I'm telling you." He pushed himself up once more, weight on his forearms so he could look straight down at her, reached to gently cup her cheek in one calloused hand as he leaned down to kiss her again before whispering his final words against her lips, "that you're dazzling."

He pulled back again, fingers sliding up to push tendrils of sweat-damp hair back from her face, watching the kaleidoscope on her skin slowly begin to fade as the sun slipped farther down. "Dankeschoen, Leibe," he told her, his chest vibrating solidly against hers as he smiled down at her. "It was...wunderschoen," and he glanced up at the window above them with a smile, knowing she'd understand that he meant all of it, but especially bringing them up here to be washed in the light. Hoping that she'd understand that he also meant every quiet minute they snatched from the chaos that had consumed their lives. "Du bist wunderschoen."

**She held him closer, sighing into the top of his head** as he settled back against her breast, his chest still vibrating contentedly against hers. **"How long you figure we can stay here 'til they send out a search party?"**

Closing his eyes, he nuzzled his face into her neck, his purr stuttering a bit at the reminder of the world beyond the window, the one washed in the crimson of blood, not stained glass. "We have time yet," was all he said, trailing his fingers lightly down her belly to toy with her piercing, not elaborating that it was because it was so close to dark they'd not likely risk a search party no matter how concerned they might be. Didn't want to think about that. Wanted two more minutes thinking of nothing but how good she felt against him, how he'd gladly take her again, right now, if they didn't need to get going before someone did start to seriously worry.

* * *

**Rogue**  
—  
He looked up at her, planting a kiss on her nose teasingly and then moving to her mouth as the cold hit her body, the breeze coming in from the shattered windows across the tower and chilling the sweat that had collected on her. She leaned into the kiss, letting it linger until he opened his mouth and pulled back just far enough to reply, his tongue making a wet trail to her earlobe, **"As many times as you've absorbed me, you'd think you'd remember enough."** Her hand worked across his back as he moved down to her neck, sucking gently in a manner that should have left a mark, but wouldn't. Not anymore. Looking up, he continued, **"to know when I'm telling you."** She smiled up at him as he pushed himself up, hand cupping her cheek and leaning in for another kiss, whispering against her, **"that you're dazzling."**

Reaching down, she wove her fingers around his tail as he pulled back and pushed hair out of her face, voice rumbling in his chest as he thanked her rather unnecessarily, **"Dankeschoen, Leibe. It was...wunderschoen."** He looked up at the window and she smiled, knowing full well what he meant. Any time at all that they could get away from killing the undead and burying innocent bystanders was cherished. **"Du bist wunderschoen."**

She pulled him in, holding him as she sighed into his head and cast a glance outside, the dimming light reminding her of how late it was probably getting. "How long you figure we can stay here 'til they send out a search party?" She felt him start a bit, and immediately regretted having brought up what lay outside the stone walls of the church. **"We have time yet,"** he replied, fingers tracing to her navel. She nodded, kissing the top of his head again and whispering, "Not nearly enough."

Her arms wrapped tighter as she held him, leaning into the warmth that his body provided and trying her best to ignore the cool air that was hitting them, giving up after about a minute. Sighing, she slowly sat up, pulling him briefly onto her lap as she lifted off the ledge and kissed him, slowly lowering them to the broken pew below. There was a movement outside, a flash of red that she tried to ignore as she settled them back onto the hard wood bench. It didn't really matter. Zombies were too weak to break down the barricades. Eyes flickering to the candles, she sighed. Two of them had blown out, Scott's and the Professor's. Leaning, she reached into the pocket of the discarded cargos, fishing out the matches and half walking, half levitating herself to the rack. Striking a match, she relit the candles silently then headed back to the bench, gathering her clothes and tugging them on, trying her best to not to look at the candles for too long. She hated that they had to go, but she hated the idea of becoming nothing but a memorial herself. And it'd gotten to the point where the others were more likely to mourn them than to actually seek them out.

She lifted her chest plate from the ground, latching it into place and reaching for her boots. Head jerking toward the broken main window, she cleared her throat and broke the silence reluctantly but unavoidably as she slipped the boots on. "There's something out there. I couldn't tell what, but I'd be willing to bet that it should be dead."

* * *

**Kurt**  
—  
**"Not nearly enough."**she answered, and she was right, but that was one thing they never were likely to have enough of. Even the nights were so rarely theirs, not with him so often on night patrols because of his vision, not to mention that he was nocturnal by nature to begin with. So much of what they had was, like today, precious minutes here or there chiseled out of time they likely should have spent doing other, vastly more important, things that he couldn't have cared less about so long as he could hold her like this. 

But, like she'd said, it wasn't nearly long enough and soon the cool air was raising goosebumps on naked flesh and even the warmth of him pressed against her wasn't proof against the cold. When she sighed and pulled him into her lap as easily as a child he smiled wryly, wrapping his tail around her waist and leaning into the touch of her lips on his as she lifted them both into the air. Sweet and gentle and over too soon as she settled them back into the broken pew in the equally broken Church.

At the sound of her sigh he finally let her go, gaze shifting to follow hers. _Oh_. Something hitched in his chest at the sight of the two snuffed candles and his hands and tail flexed restlessly as she fished the matches from his discarded pants and drifted over to relight them. It wasn't much, perhaps it really and truly was nothing...but he needed the light and he sighed in relief as they flickered back into erratic life. And for a while he simply watched the flames, mesmerized by the dancing light, as she gathered her clothes and began to dress.

Over. Their time here was over now and he finally snaked his tail out, tugging his filthy pants over so that he could slip them on. He tugged them absently up his hips, though they slipped right back down again, his tail really the only thing that kept them on at all anymore, with the weight he'd dropped these last few weeks. Looked up just in time to see her latch her chest plate back in place and reach for her boots. He wanted to reach out and touch her, brush the ever-wayward hair from her eyes, rub his thumb across the sweet spot behind her ear, and he watched hungrily, almost entranced, until she cleared her throat and jerked her head towards the window they'd entered through.  
**  
"There's something out there. I couldn't tell what, but I'd be willing to bet that it should be dead."**

And that was a bet he wouldn't take, because anything moving out there this close to dark that wasn't them was sure to be..._them_. Grimacing in distaste, he pushed his hands through unruly curls and followed her gaze, considering their options. Whatever it was couldn't likely get in through the barricades...not unless there were enough to flatten them beneath a tide of flesh...and they could easily get out under Rogue's power. But every...creature...they left out here was one more they - or someone else - would simply have to face later.

"Do you want to deal with it, Liebe, or should we leave it for another time?" He hesitated even asking the question, though, knowing that, if they chose to leave, the monster out there could be the one that destroyed some other innocent life, because they hadn't taken the time to send it properly to the grave it never should have risen from...


End file.
